


Roots to Branches

by newlifemoriarty



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: (With a happy ending tho), Arthur Whump, Arthur is Good Sad Dad, Canon Typical Violence, Lenny is a Good Strong Boy whom I love, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newlifemoriarty/pseuds/newlifemoriarty
Summary: Arthur and Lenny have a run in with the Lemoyne Raiders that goes bad, and Arthur needs Lenny’s help if he’s going to make it back to camp.





	Roots to Branches

**Author's Note:**

> I had this thought while half asleep on the bus home from work, did some quick maths and made myself sad. So enjoy, I guess.

In his life, Arthur had been shot, stabbed, beat up, half choked to death. He had been thrown from horses countless time, had broken most bones in his body at one point or another. Pain was nothing new to him. It still _sucked_.

 

He had been focused on getting a clean shot on the Lemoyne Raider that had just wrestled Lenny to the ground, not noticing the one that had been behind him until it was nearly too late. He spun as the man grabbed him, and the motion pushed him off balance just enough for the Raider to throw himself onto him. Their combined weight sent Arthur flying towards the ground, his back smacking heavily into a log. There was a cracking sound as his joints popped, and all of his back ached. But he had no time to process it, flinging an arm out to shove the Raider back so he could press the muzzle of his pistol into the man’s throat and fire off a single shot. As the man’s body dropped to the floor, Arthur went to push himself off the log, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His eyes flicked around and saw that Lenny had managed to finish off the last of the small camp of Raiders they had stumbled on. Arthur puffed out a sigh and braced his elbows on the log behind him, but as he began to lift himself, a spike of violent pain rocked through his body. The adrenaline had dropped the second he had moved and he was now incredibly aware of the almost blinding pain spiralling up from his gut. He swallowed a strangled gasp and glanced down to see the cause of the pain. A thick, half broken branch was jutting out of his lower stomach, literally pinning him to the log beneath him.

 

“You just gonna lie there all day, old man?” Lenny laughed from where he was picking clean the Raider’s camp, not looking over to where Arthur was. Arthur’s head was spinning, one hand clutching desperately at the point where the tip of the branch jutted out, the other clutching at the log behind him, trying to keep himself steady.

“Lenny...” he coughed. Lenny looked up at the choked sound, and gasped as he took in the sight.

“Shit, Arthur!” He cried, running over, all thoughts of looting abandoned instantly.

“M’fine,” Arthur wheezed, unconvincingly. “Just gonna... need a hand.”

“What do I do?” Lenny asked, clearly trying very hard to stay calm. _He’s so goddamn young_ , was all Arthur could think for a moment. “Arthur, please, how do I help?” Lenny’s voice cut through Arthur’s pain induced stupor.

“Okay, you put pressure on here, I’m gonna... see if I can break this” Arthur hissed, the blood soaked hand from his gut reaching towards Lenny. The kid followed without hesitation, surprisingly steady hands pressing firmly on Arthur’s gut each side of the branch. One hand now free, Arthur groped blindly behind himself, feeling where the branch was sticking out of the main part of the log. As his fingers wrapped around the wood, the shifting of his body caused his vision to blur as his head spun. He was losing too much blood. He sucked in a breath, focusing on the feeling of the bark against his fingers to try and ground himself.

“Arthur...” Lenny murmured, fear sparking bright in his eyes. Arthur could barely focus on anything but those eyes.

“M’fine, kid,” he hissed again, but the fear didn’t fade. Arthur gripped as best he could at the base of the branch, giving it an experimental tug. Instantly, his vision snapped to black and he heard a cry of pain that he was pretty sure was his, though he had no awareness of actually making noise.

“Arthur! Shit, Arthur, stay with me.” Lenny’s voice was sharp and insistent and the only thing that stopped Arthur from falling completely into the blackness. He gasped and blinked until his vision cleared.

“Ok, kid, I... I need...” His hands were shaking as he braced himself against the log, his own voice sounding distant and strange to his senses. “I need you to... to lift me offa this...”

Arthur had just enough awareness to see the tears well in Lenny’s eyes.

“Arthur, I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, sounding terrified. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.” Arthur would have shook his head if he had the strength for it.

“You can,” he said, trying hard to bring some kind of firmness and conviction to his voice. He needing to stop the bleeding soon or he was going to lose consciousness. So he need the damn stick out of him. Lenny, always sharp and bright and clever, could see this, and clearly knew there was no other option. So he nodded.

“Okay, okay...” he said, lifting his hands off Arthur’s gut and stepping to the side a little, to get a better angle. Without the pressure, the wound began to gush even more and Arthur’s vision tunnelled. He could hear gasping breaths, and he wasn’t sure it they were his, Lenny’s, or both. There was pressure at his shoulder blades now, and what he was pretty sure was an arm looping under his braced knees.

“Okay, Arthur.” Lenny’s voice at his ear. Something to focus on. “Count of three”

 

“One.”

 

Arthur’s entire vision was dark and blurry now.

 

“Two.”

 

He couldn’t bleed out in the kid’s arms, Lenny didn’t deserve that.

 

“Three.”

 

Sharp, white pain. All Arthur knew in those seconds was pain. Like someone was firing a shotgun into his gut, again and again. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Then, it faded. Just the tiniest bit, just enough. He gasped back into some kind of awareness. There was a solid, steady ground beneath him, and pressure on the gaping wound in his gut. A voice, saying his name over and over. He blinked a few times, the world slowly falling back into focus around him.

“Arthur, you with me?” Lenny was hovering over him, pressing a chunk of fabric into the wound. Lenny’s bandana, he realised. It was almost unrecognisable, soaked crimson with Arthur’s blood. Arthur nodded slightly and groaned, his head spinning too much and his throat too tight for anything else. He blinked again, and seemed to lose a few seconds, Lenny now carefully wrapping a bandage around his waist. Things were just a little clearer now so when Lenny asked him the same question again, he found his own voice.

“Yeah, kid,” he managed, Arthur’s voice raspy but somewhat steady. The pain was a little duller now, nothing outside of what Arthur hadn’t already felt in his life. Lenny had finished wrapping the bandage now, and whistled for their horses. As they trotted over, glanced back to Arthur.

“Can you stand?” he asked. Arthur grunted, shifting his weight to brace himself onto his elbows and attempt to hoist himself up. The world went white then black again as he did so, but when it fell back into place he was upright, one hand braced against his horse’s shoulder, Lenny’s grip tight on the other bicep. Arthur could tell he wasn’t going to stay conscious long enough for them to get back to Clemens Point. He was barely conscious already. Lenny was saying something.

“Wha—?” He groaned, turning his head towards the kid. Lenny squeezed his bicep firmly, grounding Arthur just enough for him to understand him.

“Hop on Maggie behind me,” he said. Arthur nodded, and instantly regretted it, the world spinning out from under him. He to a second to collect himself, before he let Lenny lead him to Maggie. Lenny braced his back and hips as Arthur heaved himself onto the mustang’s rump. Lenny quickly mounted, and Arthur felt only the tiniest bit of shame as he slumped forward against him.

“You’re alright, Arthur,” Lenny said as he turned Maggie towards camp.

“Thank you, Isaac.”

Arthur’s world went dark.

 

***

 

Arthur spent the next day drifting in and out of consciousness with Hosea and Grimshaw fussing over him. They all knew he would pull through, Arthur had pulled through worse before. Eventually he woke up properly and suffered through the lecture Grimshaw gave him about giving them all such a fright. She then insisted that he stay in bed, and someone would bring him some of the stew when it was ready. Arthur tried to grumble that he was fine, but the glare Susan sent him silenced him quickly.

 

He dozed as he waited, but woke again to the sound of someone quietly clearing their throat at the entrance to his tent. He blinked his eyes open and saw Lenny standing there, a bowl of stew in each hand. He gave the kid a grin.

“Come in,” he said, gesturing to the seat that had been put by his cot by Susan or Hosea. Lenny returned his smile and sat down, passing Arthur one of the bowls. He muttered his thanks and they both ate quietly for a bit. Finally, Lenny spoke.

“Who’s Isaac?” His voice was quiet, reserved. Arthur’s hands began to shake the tiniest bit. He placed the bowl down, suddenly losing his appetite.

“Where’d you...” He stumbled and cleared his throat. “Where’d you hear that name?”

“You, uh... you called me Isaac,” Lenny explained, not quite looking at Arthur. There was a beat of silence as Arthur let out a slow breath, his throat tight.

“Ah, shit... right...” he muttered, running a hand across his chin and scratching at his bead. “He uh... Isa—“ His throat closed up completely, as tears filled his eyes. He blinked them back, furiously, determined not to cry in front of Lenny. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling of his tent for a second before glancing back at Lenny, who was sitting silently, staring at the ground.

“He was...” Once again Arthur’s throat clenched and his mouth went dry. He shook his head, realising there was no way he could talk about this right now. “Ask Hosea, tell ‘im I told ya to ask.”

It was the best he could manage. Hosea had been there, when Arthur had collapsed just outside the clearing they had been camped in at the time. Hosea had held him as sobbed and shook in a way he never had before. Hosea could explain it. Lenny nodded, his face soft and understanding. He was a damn good kid, and he deserved a hell of a lot better than to bet stuck with this lot of fools. Lenny stood and gave Arthur’s shoulder and comforting squeeze. Arthur nodded at him, and the kid left him alone to his thoughts.

 

_He’s only a few years older than Isaac would’ve been,_  Arthur wrote under the image of Lenny he sketched in his journal the next day. _Hope his Pa’s as proud of him as I am._

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that Arthur was about 17 when Isaac was born, and is about 33 in game, which would make Isaac about 16 if he was still alive. Also I’m probably gonna write the conversation between Hosea and Lenny, so look forward to that.


End file.
